


Detective Laurel Lance, Badass

by srmiller



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-22
Updated: 2014-01-22
Packaged: 2018-01-09 15:53:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1147839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/srmiller/pseuds/srmiller
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on this idea I had of Laurel Lance being a little more like Ruby 1.0 from Supernatural. So she’s a little edgier, and a cop, and when she ambushes Oliver in the Glades after seeing his bike outside a diner old wounds and old feelings come (unwelcomed) to the surface.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Detective Laurel Lance, Badass

“Hey there, Ollie.”

Oliver looked up from his lunch at the diner near his family’s abandoned steel foundry, he’d decided on lunch before heading back to the other side of town and the Glades was the last place he’d expected to run in to someone.

The face attached to the body sliding in to the other side of the booth was unfamiliar at first, but he quickly recognized the sharp features and wide, Atlantic colored eyes.

He briefly remembered a time when he could tell her moods by the color of those eyes.

Now, they were so unfamiliar they were exotic.

“Laurel.”

She reached for the extra plate on the table and grabbed the bottle of ketchup, squeezing till the small plate was nearly filled, “Hey Ollie. Long time no see.”

He wasn’t sure how to respond, she was smiling, but there was a wildness to it he didn’t completely recognize.

“I didn’t expect to run in to anyone in the Glades,” he finally said, hoping she’d assume he’d come to this part of town to get away and get some time privacy.

“I saw your bike outside,” she admitted, taking a bite of the fry she’d stolen from his plate. “I was in the area with a murder.”

Oliver glanced at her side and saw the police issued firearm in its holster, and he imagined there was a badge hooked to her belt though the table blocked his view.

He knew she was a cop, a detective. She’d been in the academy before he’d run away on the _Gambit_ and two years in to his disappearance there had been a high profile hostage situation, the mayor’s daughter was being held by her coked-out ex-boyfriend and the press had been following the situation minute by minute.

When he’d looked her up at the American embassy in Japan there had been no shortage of footage showing the mayor losing his cool with the negotiator in charge of the scene. In the background was Laurel, still a brunette, her hair in a tight bun over the collar of her police uniform.

He’d recognized her in those news clips, bristling with energy and irritation, frustrated with the hesitancy the negotiator had exhibited so Laurel being Laurel had walked away from the bureaucrats and gone in herself.

No one knew exactly what she’d done in the small apartment on the trendy side of town, the ex-boyfriend wouldn’t talk, and the daughter had insisted it had all happened so fast.

Laurel just smiled at the news camera and assured them she’d just done her job.

Except she hadn’t just done her job, she’d rescued the mayor’s daughter from a dangerous situation and street-smart Laurel knew how to use a favor and had traded her darling-of-the-press persona and having rescued the mayor’s daughter for a shield.

Most of her fellow detectives were resistant to a woman who had jumped over regulations and the normal process of things but the fact of the matter was she was good at her job.

She knew the Glades, she was smart, she was quick, and if the police involved shooting from a year ago was any indication, she was a good shot.

But Oliver didn’t reveal any of this as Laurel took a drink of his soda as if he hadn’t been missing for five years, “I heard you were a detective. Didn’t know you were blonde.”

Laurel shrugged, “It’s recent.”

It was only a month old. She’d dyed in a fit of restlessness and panic when Tommy had asked her, again, to go out on a date.

It was stupid, she was aware it was stupid, but every time Tommy wanted to take their fall-together-when-it-feels-good situation to more serious territory she did stupid things she wouldn’t normally do, like sneak in to an apartment and defuse a bad situation without backup because she could feel the fight or flight instinct boiling up inside her till she released it with rash action.

And dying her hair blonde without proper consideration.

She wasn’t sure she liked it, but she had to keep it for a while out of principal if nothing else. When Tommy had seen it he’d smiled this stupid, obnoxiously charming grin which told her he knew exactly why she’d done it. But he hadn’t teased her, hadn’t poked at the soft spot which was bright as neon in front of him.

Instead he’d made a crack about blondes being more fun and they’d had sex on her couch.

He didn’t bring up being exclusive the rest of the night.

“Are you here to yell at me?” Oliver asked after he saw Laurel get lost in a consuming thought.

She blinked and whatever she’d been thinking about was brushed aside as her eyes were once again easily amused, her mouth in the natural smirk which had always suited her.

“No,” she picked up a fry but dropped it instead of eating it. He watched her lean back against the cushion of the bench and saw the restlessness humming just under her skin. She wasn’t going to yell at him, but it didn’t mean she didn’t want to.

“I thought about coming to see you but wasn’t sure if you’d shoot me.”

The right side of her mouth lifted in a wry grin, “No. Too much paperwork. Besides, you know me, I prefer things on my own terms.”

Oliver nodded, pushed the plate of food to the middle of the table, no longer interested in the burger and fries.

Laurel ate a fry, drenching it in ketchup first, “Was it quick? When she died, was it quick?”

Having already decided he would lie to her, Oliver nodded.

“It’s hard not to be pissed. At you, at her, at the whole damn thing. We never should have gotten together, this whole fucked up situation could have been avoided if I’d just said no to you when you asked to buy me a drink.”

 “We were never very good at saying no to each other.”

With a soft scoff she shook her head, and he imagined she was replaying in fast forward their tumultuous relationship, from that first night at a bar to their dramatic breakup they didn’t do anything by halves. When he’d seen her across the dance floor, dancing like she’d been made to do it, he’d been caught. When he’d kissed her goodnight at her door, she’d been ensnared.

“If that’s not the truest thing you’ve said.”

“For what it’s worth, I am sorry.”

“Sorry for what, Ollie?” she snapped. “For buying me the drink? For getting involved with me? For getting in a fight and being such an asshat I was forced to break up with you? Or for getting back at me by sleeping with my sister and killing her?”

Oliver let out a heavy sigh and threw a couple bills on the table, “I guess you are going to yell at me.”

Laurel followed him out of the door to his motorcycle and when Oliver turned to face her he could feel the electricity tingle along his spine which felt as dangerous as anything he’d faced on the island.

He saw her breath catch as they nearly collided, a curse muttered under her breath.

“I agree," he surprised her by saying, fully agreeing with the sentiment she'd bit out with frustration. "So maybe we should just keep our distance from here on out.”

“Yeah, fine, whatever.”

She was still pissed, he could see it in the way she held herself, the razor straight back, the clenched right fist.

Seemed five years wasn’t enough to erase everything.

With another muttered curse she turned to walk away, turning when she reached the hood of her car, “And by the way, I’m screwing Tommy. See you later, Ollie.”

 --------------------------------------

“This is Lance,” Laurel answered absently when her cell phone rang while at her desk in the Starling City precinct.

“We need you to head over to the Queen residence.”

Laurel closed her eyes, “Excuse me?”

“Oliver Queen and Tommy Merlyn were kidnapped, they’re currently at the Queen residence after having been rescued by an unknown person. We need you to head over and interview them.”

“Got it.”

Laurel dropped her phone on the desk and prayed to the saints for patience and wisdom all while kicking herself.

Why had she thought it was a good idea to ambush Ollie and confess she was sleeping with his best friend?

Because really, she should have known better, there was no keeping the distance with her and Oliver Queen,

The universe had too sick a sense of humor for that.

**Author's Note:**

> [share on tumblr if you liked it!](http://awriterincowboyboots.tumblr.com/post/78965830328/detective-laurel-lance-badass)


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